


Repairs

by basilbleu



Series: It Burns [9]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fae & Fairies, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Necromancer Keith (Voltron), Sad Keith (Voltron), Scared Keith (Voltron), Space Uncle Coran (Voltron), Supportive Coran (Voltron), Witch Keith (Voltron), Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23676277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basilbleu/pseuds/basilbleu
Summary: With the others, bonding had been so easy. But Keith wasn’t like the others.He was cold and off-putting. Defensive. Not an approachable person.And then his necromancy was revealed and he suddenly made sense.If Coran was hunted for simply being fae, then he’d keep to himself as well.---During a nightly stroll, Coran stumbles upon Keith after he spent the day with his friends. Coran decides to clear the air between them.
Relationships: Coran & Keith (Voltron)
Series: It Burns [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1179152
Comments: 20
Kudos: 120





	Repairs

**Author's Note:**

> i really shouldve written a fic quicker while in quarantine haha. youd think being stuck at home would motivate me to write but i think its done the opposite! i hope you guys like this one - its a bit shorter than what i usually post - and i hope coran isnt oc, honestly i dont really know how to write him
> 
> you don't necessarily need to read the other fics to read this one if you're all about the hurt/comfort, but reading previous ones, especially the Discoveries series, will help you understand the situation a bit more

Coran found Keith by a fairy circle.

The little creatures were winding through the air, dancing under the moonlight, as Keith watched beneath them entranced by their butterfly wings, back lounging against a sturdy tree and legs casually hugged by his arms. Coran couldn’t see his face and regretfully he couldn’t imagine the wonder in his eyes as they surely traced the flights of the fairies. Only on rare occasions had he seen the boy truly smile; they were few and far between. And lately all he could picture was a body limp on the ground, bruises maring his skin and a bloody cuff around his wrist. 

He’d been too late to stop Allura and the result of his tardiness would be scarred into his heart, another bloody mark to add to the crisscross of regrets, of things he should’ve done differently; it laid next to the one that still hasn’t clotted, a constantly flowing trickle reminding him of the charge that he hadn’t become close with yet. After the past few days, it had ripped open further. 

Seeing the battered boy reminded him of how horribly he had failed Keith in befriending him. They had had conversations, light ones, but they hadn’t been enough to break him out of his shell. Considering circumstances coming to light recently, he understood why the boy distanced himself from him and from the others. Yes, he had noticed how Keith would linger on the outside of the group, only talking when necessary or to bicker with Lance. 

With the others, bonding had been so easy. But Keith wasn’t like the others. 

He was cold and off-putting. Defensive. Not an approachable person. 

And then his necromancy was revealed and he suddenly made sense.

If Coran was hunted for simply being fae, then he’d keep to himself as well. 

Before the Galra invasion, the man hadn’t known much about necromancers. The Purge hadn’t been a major event in the Fae Pocket, but the news quickly spread: witches persecuting their own kind. 

_ They were becoming as bad as the humans they had run from _ , many Fae had said between giggles and haughty sneers. 

King Alfor even had a word or two about the situation, but Coran had kept his thoughts to himself on the matter. The necromancers must had done something horribly devastating to invoke the wrath of their own kind; however, the weeks following yielded no reasonable explanation, simply rumors of the general dislike for necromancers. But as most conversation topics fly off as quickly as they arrive, especially in Fae, Coran forgot about the necromancers. 

Until the invasion of the Galra. Where hundreds, possibly thousands, of them wreaked havoc on his people. He’d been in tears as he led Allura away from the carnage, angry and scared, but resolute in his promise to care for King Alfor’s only child. 

That day was forever burned into his memory.

Though even when Pidge revealed Keith to be a necromancer, he didn’t think of the invasion or the Purge, but of the boy in front of the group, looking terrified and alone. The rest of his memories came after the first few seconds of initial shock. 

Shock that had lasted too long. 

Another cut to his heart: he regretted the way he froze that day. 

There was no excuse. He had watched as Allura attacked Keith, watched as Lance defended him, watched as he frantically ran off into the forest.

Only once Lance and Shiro had pleaded for their understanding did he snap out of his haze. Memories of the deaths he’d witnessed flitted across his vision, but Keith deserved the benefit of the doubt. The boy had been too young to remember the Purge, likely too young to even exhibit his magickal inclination, and for the past couple months, he had been training day and night to  _ defeat _ the Galra, not join them. 

Since then, Coran still hadn’t properly talked with Keith. These past few days had been challenging to say the least with Allura fuming and Shiro pleading. He had spent countless hours mediating between the two and trying desperately to sway Allura. 

Coran had needed a break. So once Allura retired for the night, he walked the forest. A brisk walk to clear his head and to take a breath. 

He hadn’t meant to run into Keith. Though once he saw the boy’s raven hair glinting in the moonlight, he wished that had been his intention. With a heavy heart, he almost turned away from him, believing he likely needed space from the others if he had been here alone at that hour of the night and Coran’s presence wouldn’t give him the relief he had been searching for. 

But then Coran squared up. He wouldn’t be running from the boy any longer.

He took cautious steps forward, stopping once he was beside Keith.

“Hello, my boy,” Coran announced rather loudly. A few fairies jolted at the volume, even Keith seemed startled. His head whipped to his side, eyes wide beneath unruly bangs. 

“C-Coran,” he stuttered. “Sorry, I can… I can can leave if--”

“Oh, no need,” Coran responded, Keith’s jaw snapping shut. The man lowered himself to the ground, albeit a little less brashly. He hadn’t expected the way Keith tensed at his entrance, the poor boy not even meeting his eyes and those bangs obscuring his face. 

Keith didn’t move, though clearly he was uncomfortable and not in the physical sense. Coran doubted himself for a moment. Perhaps he should’ve let the boy go when he offered. Clearly he wanted to be alone. 

But something wasn’t right. 

Leaving now felt wrong. 

Coran’s steady gaze caught the tremble of Keith’s hands and the dampness of his neck, both of which weren’t apparent before he had joined the boy. He also sat stiffly against the trunk, feet now planted firmly on the grass, grinding it with his heel. Slowly Keith brought his gloved hands into his chest, one cradling his wrist. 

And then it clicked. 

Coran shouldn’t have intruded. He should’ve thought through his actions more thoroughly. 

Allura had attacked Keith. And now in the middle of the night her guardian approached him a distance away from camp and from where the others slept soundly in their tents. 

If he had any attention of harming Keith, the present situation would be the perfect opportunity. Clearly Keith had thought the exact thing as soon as Coran announced himself.

Coran took a deep breath, willing the bile at the back of his throat to retreat. The simple thought of harming the boy knotted his stomach, even seeing him tremble in rational fear exacerbated the sour taste in his mouth. 

He willed his eyes away from Keith, praying to the Ancients that his lack of attention might ease the boy somewhat. Instead he watched the fluttering of butterfly wings so similar to those who belonged to the fairies that had lived outside the Castle. 

“You know,” Coran softly said, hoping his lighter tone wouldn’t startle Keith, “the palace used to house many fairies. The whole garden was dedicated to them. They’d care for the plants--gardeners of sorts. Fiercely protective of their work. Unless you bribed them with honeyed milk for a flower and only then, they’d never accept an offering unless King Alfor presented it. The lot of them loved him. As they should have.”

Coran sadly smiled at the memory of his king laughing as fairies swarmed him and his pitcher of honeyed milk cradled to his chest. Their chime bell giggles had joined Coran’s chuckles as Alfor attempted not to spill the pitcher for the second time that morning. Coran couldn’t remember why they had needed flowers from the garden, perhaps for a banquet later that night or as a gift for Allura’s mother, but the why didn’t matter when he could distinctly recall the crinkles of Alfors eyes and the happiness stitched in his cheeks--that is until the pitcher had been dislodged from his hands and soaked the grass beneath his feet yet again. 

Coran had laughed himself to tears as his friend attempted to keep his composure among the fluttering fairies circling him, some diving to the ground to snatch a drop or two before it soaked into the soil. 

The third attempt had been much more successful, the king proudly beaming as he finally and properly delivered the milk to their little gardeners. 

His smile had been contagious. 

Such a simple thing made Coran’s chest ache fiercely. 

The mundane memories hurt the most. He hadn’t the slightest idea why. 

“I miss him,” Coran wistfully said a few moments later. “Allura does even more so.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Keith thickly said. Coran harshly blinked a couple times before looking toward the boy: he was uncontrollably shaking, hugging his knees to his chest in a vice grip. 

The sight nearly hurt as much as the memory. 

Slowly, carefully, Coran placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder. 

And before Keith could pull away, he said, “No, no, my boy. There’s nothing to apologize for--I hadn’t meant to imply... I could never blame you for the transgression of others. You have done  _ nothing _ wrong.”

Under his hand, Coran felt Keith's breath hitch. “But I’m a--”

“A part of his family,” he finished. “You are family. And I could never hate or hurt you for simply being a necromancer.” 

Keith pulled away, shaking his head. Coran let him. But he never let him stray far.

He wouldn’t abandon him when those thoughts swirled around his mind. 

“Listen, my boy. I will never hurt you. That would be like--like plucking the wings from a fairy. And your wings have already been abused for far too long.”

Keith sadly smiled, his lips visible under his bangs. He relaxed a bit, though without moving any closer. “More than just my wings.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Coran tragically agreed. He couldn’t fathom the pain this boy had been through, the discrimination and prejudices he had faced, the terror of being found out--all of which had occured sometime in the past few days.

Coran licked his lips. “The point I was attempting to make, though rather poorly, was that though I fiercely miss my king, I’d miss you just as vehemently,” he urged, yet even with his words, Keith still hadn’t met his eyes. He desperately wanted to see them, to pull them from behind the curtain of hair. But he’d wait. “Allura may officially be my charge, but you and others have been like children to me and I couldn’t bear to lose another member of my family. Which includes you. I apologize for not making my intentions clear earlier.”

Keith’s head jerked up, amethyst eyes glistening. “You mean that?” he hesitantly asked, leaning forward, Coran would say, almost eagerly. It saddened him, but the relief and content within those eyes satisfied him. Coran nodded his head. Keith was family; they all were. “You’re not mad? But Allura--”

“Is still grieving,” he finished. Which was true. Coran reckoned that her grief snapped to anger the moment she realized Keith was a necromancer; it had forced out her emotions and pushed all her rage and frustration onto Keith, the nearest blamable target. “I don’t wish to make excuses for her--because what she has done to you is inexcusable--but she has been through more than most and simply needs time to process the events of the past few days. You have every right to judge her, but I hope that one day you may be friends once again. And you should not believe everything my charge says. She’s one to bind her tongue to her emotions.”

Keith’s brows furrowed at his words. “But you can’t lie. Fae can’t lie. And she believes all those things she said to me.”

“I wasn’t initially there when she began her accusations,” Coran began. Another reget on his heart. “I’ve only been told what she has said and yes, while fae cannot lie, to lie is a tricky subject. Our words can be swayed by our emotions and our beliefs, so while she didn’t lie, in her anger she may have concocted phrases that could apply to you or any other random necromancer.”

“She didn’t seem intent on seeing… me,” Keith murmured. Picking at his wrappings, he hesitantly continued, “Only calling me necromancer, monster, traitor. I didn’t--I’d never… Coran, I--”

“I understand, my boy,” he assured. “I trust your words. I trust you.”

Keith’s lips wobbled. He gave Coran a curt nod as a thanks and turned back to look at the fairies. His quivering had stopped, though he continued to roll his wrappings between his fingers. He relaxed against the tree and Coran did the same, averting his gaze to the butterfly wings as well. He hadn’t expected the mop of black hair to land on his shoulder, the boy resting his head there, but he smiled nonetheless and gently draped an arm around Keith’s shoulders, pulling him in closer. 

They sat there watching the fairies. Their dancing eventually ended. Many retired to their homes in the trees, but a few brave ones joined them, nestling close to their necks and in the palms of their hands. Coran hadn’t noticed Keith had dozed off until then. And hadn’t noticed he had also fallen asleep until the rising sun woke them with rays escaping by the canopy’s leaves. 

It was a new day.

**Author's Note:**

> pls i live for kudos and especially comments!
> 
> let me know how u like it! and if there are any interactions youd like to see happen (honestly i might need a spark of inspiration or two)


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